


Second Thoughts

by TheEveOfLilith



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mpreg, Rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2018-10-12 18:18:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10496805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEveOfLilith/pseuds/TheEveOfLilith
Summary: After the fiasco with killing Dumbledore, Draco is called up by the Dark Lord. The Malfoy family had failed him again and Draco is terrified of the outcome. But even in his wildest dreams he cannot imagine what awaits him in the hours, months and years to come.





	1. A Spell

It had all happened in a hurry. The vastness of the Room of Requirement. His trembling hand, reaching to touch the ancient pattern carved delicately into the wood of the vanishing cabinet. Then his fingers, reaching for his wand. He, taking a shallow breath. And then his shaky voice, whispering the incantation that had been haunting him for the whole year. 

“Harmonia Nectere Pasus”. 

And before the last echo of his voice died down, the door of the cabinet opened with an ominous creak. 

Then there were black robed figures passing by him. His mad aunt Bellatrix. Yaxley. The Carrows. When he heard an unmistakable growl from the darkness of the cabinet, he turned around in a haste and joined the pacing crowd.

As the Astronomy Tower drew nearer, Draco's rapid heartbeat grew even faster. His hand was sweating so much that he was afraid his wand would slip out of his fingers. His mouth was sour. 

The set of stairs that awaited him was impossible to surmount. At least he thought so, when he was about to climb them. In the end he was atop of it sooner than he'd even wanted to. And when he looked around it wasn't just him and the death eaters.

There he was, Dumbledore. Old and slouched and wrinkled like the old man he was. Even the usual twinkle, that irritated Draco so much at times, was nowhere to be found in his weary eyes. Draco clenched his teeth and raised his wand with a swish. It was either Dumbledore or him and his whole family. An easy choice. 

“Good evening, Draco.”

 _Or was it_? 

His body betrayed him and submitted to shaking. His face was nothing but a painful grimace. Standing in front of the man whom he knew his whole childhood, he suddenly felt the urge to justify his actions.

“I have to do this.” His croaking voice was alien to him. “I have to kill you.” He almost started wailing “Or he's gonna kill me.” He was pathetic.

“Draco, please, let me help you.” Dumbledore moved towards him cautiously.

“Expelliarmus!” Exclaimed Draco, seeing a threat in the old man's conciliatory gesture. The headmaster just mournfully watched his wand fly off.

Could it be more easy? Yet he couldn't bring himself to do it. 

“Well done, Draco.” Breathed his mad aunt into his ear, emerging from the stairs with the rest of the group following right after.

“You're not alone.” Even now, fully understanding the situation he was in, Dumbledore's voice was steady. How did the old man do it? Draco thought that, somehow, if the old man begged for his life, if would have been easier.

“Do it!” Aunt Bella encouraged him commandingly. 

And then the black bat of a professor entered the crooked scene. Draco lowered his wand immediately and watched the man's broad back cover his vision. Right now, Draco was grateful for seeing the man more  than ever before in his entire life.

“Severus.” The odd look Dumbledore gave the man was almost relieved. What the hell? The rumours couldn't be true, could they?

“Please.” Well, that didn't sound very confident.

Draco looked up to the potions master. Is he going to do it? Is he going to kill the old man in Draco's stead? And then came the words he he'd already heard too many times for a lifetime. The words he couldn't bring himself to voice.

“ _Avada Kedavra_.”

His perception of reality  has halted at the sight of the old man falling of the tower, his eyes empty of all life that had ever been there. The moment had burned into his lenses, repeating itself, again and again, like a twisted wizarding photograph. If the fellow death eaters didn't drag him all the way, he would surely have stayed there, looking over the edge with a blank expression on his face. 

He failed again. And yet it was the last thing on his mind at that moment. Dumbledore was... _dead_.

For a long time, there were just flashes. Flashes of black-coated people, hastily passed rooms, Bella's crazy laugh, a big gate. And then there were the lands and the lake and Potter with his wand raised and...

 

 

After falling out of his lethargy, he found himself hunched in a settee with his mother on his side. They were in the drawing room in Malfoy manor. With no idea at all how he got there, he raised his eyes and took in his surroundings. It was already very dark outside, judging by the fluttering candles on the coffee table, emitting too dim a light for such a big room. 

“Are you alright, Draco, dear?” His mother reached for him tentatively. His lips weren't willing to form a reply. He rather kept them shut than let them start trembling again. He at least nodded to ease his mother's worries. Her long fingers reached for his hair and started caressing them soothingly. He took a deep breath.

“I couldn't...”

“Hush, my dear.” Her caresses became more urgent. “Don't worry.”

Draco's heart sank at the roaring absence of an “Everything is going to be OK”. 

It wasn't. 

He knew that as well as his mother did. Unlike her sister, she was a wise woman. She was strong as well. He wished he had been.

He wanted to ask her if he's going to be called up. He opened his mouth and then shut it again. He was too afraid of her keeping silent as an answer; of her not wanting to state the obvious. It was not about if he's going to be called up. The question was rather when.

He sat there for Merlin knows how long, his brain full of self-loathing thoughts. He worked hard for a whole year. Repaired the vanishing cabinet. Fulfilled every command his Lord gave him. And then he screwed up the last task, so that his father could go on rotting away in Azkaban. So that his mother was no longer safe in her own home. So that he was a failure, 'just like his father'. He grudgingly remembered the Dark Lord's snake-like features. His cold sneer. The many occasions his voice rasped “Crucio” with a twisted delight. A shiver ran down his spine. This time he will be the one kneeling on the wrong side of his master's wand.

And then there was an uncomfortable tingle on his left forearm; right where his Dark mark was hidden under the sleeve of his cloak. He shifted in his seat. His mother noticed. Her sitting position stiffened. She knew what was coming. She knew she had to let him go. 

As soon as he stood up, a shiver ran down his spine and the young Slytherin felt suddenly very lightheaded. He considered turning around and running off to his room, but the Dark mark insisted on him coming to his Lord by sending a spark of actual pain through the young man's body. Something to look forward to, eh?

He tried to take deep breaths on his way to his master, but due to his nervousness he ended up breathing only shallowly. As childish and cowardly as his only other plan was, Draco felt a strong urge to fulfil it. There was nothing he desired less than being tortured by the sadistic lunatic. Yet he had no other choice than to go and see the snake-like man. As he passed through the well known and yet somehow completely alien corridors of the Manor, he found them completely deserted. There was no one to be seen or heard but the silent humming of the portraits on the walls and his own echoing footsteps.

When he seized the door handle with his slightly trembling fingers, the weight of what was to come finally dawned on him. It was too late though. Too late for him to redeem himself. He pressed the handle and with a loud click the massive door opened. 

The gathering of Death Eaters that awaited him inside made his stomach flip. He hadn't expected this. 

This was going to be huge. 

As soon as his feet crossed the doorstep a pair of blood red eyes locked on him. The Dark Lord was now observing his every move. Draco walked across the room, feigning indifference, to kneel in front of his master's throne, his head bowed. The silence that filled the room after the sound of his steps faded away didn't feel relaxing at all. He could feel dozens of eyes fixated on him as he tried to repress the uncontrollable shaking that spasmed throughout his body. He couldn't act like a coward or it would be hundred-times worse. Still the breath had caught in his throat and he felt his shoulders twitch. Every passing second the unceasing silence became more and more unbearable. As Draco finally made up his mind to open his mouth and dissolve the tension, the Dark Lord's voice echoed through the hall.

"Draco," Hissed the man. It was apparent he tried to mimic a soothing tone, yet completely failed at it. "It's ssso good to sssee you back, all alive and well." Draco decided to keep quiet and continue studying the wooden floor. The Dark Lord stood up and passed around Draco in a slow threatening pace. The young man's mouth dried and the missing liquid appeared in form of sweat on his forehead. 

"Sssso, Draco," the Dark Lord cooed sadistically. "Will you please remind me what mission have I entrusted you with?" The little droppings of sweat started to trickle down his face.

"My Lord," Whispered Draco, voice all raspy. He cleared his throat. "My Lord, I was to enable a clear way to Hogwarts to the Death Eaters." The Dark Lord clicked his tongue.

"My _dear_ Draco; I would think you had a better memory than thisss." The Dark Lord shook his head mockingly and walked another circle around the blond wizard to halt right behind the young man's back. 

"There was one more task there, wasn't it." There was not a slightest hint of question in the Dark Lord's statement. "What was it again?" Draco took a shaky breath and tried hard to steady his voice.

"To kill Albus Dumbledore, my Lord." He managed nothing more than a whisper.

"I didn't hear you." His master's voice became more annoyed every second. Draco wanted to slap himself for provoking the maniac, as unawares as it was.

"I was to kill Albus Dumbledore, my Lord." His voice was strong and steady. Thank Merlin for his little gifts.

"Hmm, I sssee." Came the vague answer from behind his back. Then Draco heard a swish of someone's cloak complemented by a familiar voice.

"Dumbledore is dead, my Lord." Severus Snape spoke coolly.

"Oh, I'm aware of that, my loyal Severus." The Dark Lord's reply was somehow dimmed; Draco assumed his master turned his head to face Snape. The following words sounded perfectly clear again though.

"Yet that doesn't mean our Draco here fully succeeded, does it?" In fact, the words were somehow even clearer than the Dark Lord's talk had been before. Please let him not tilt to me. Pleaded Draco subconsciously. And uselessly anyway, as his master's cold fetid breath met his ear. The unpleasant sensation sent a shiver down his spine. Fortunately, the closeness didn't last for very long. The Dark Lord stood up straight again and Draco could release a breath he wasn't even aware of holding.

"Well, Draco; why don't you acquaint me with today'sss courssse of eventsss?" The Dark Lord finally completed the circle around Draco's kneeling form and sat back on his throne. As intimidated as Draco felt by his master standing maliciously behind his hunched back, it wasn't very comforting to look at the Dark Lord's wrinkly feet either.

"I caught Dumbledore at the top of the Astronomy tower. I fought him. And then Snape pushed me away and killed him." He lied. At the time he was grateful for the man's actions, but now he was fighting for his own life, right? No one could have known what was going on in his mind at the time. Let them think he was about to complete his task when the potions master stole the opportunity from him. He was sure he could convince them, if he tried hard enough. But then he heard steady footsteps of his aunt Bellatrix as she went steadily to their master's side.

"He wouldn't do it anyway, my Lord, he was shaking like the pathetic little girl he is." 

Shit.

"How immensssely intriguing!" The Dark Lord exclaimed. Draco caught a glimpse of a muffled wince it caused in the crowd of Death Eaters.

"Tell me, then, Draco, how did your fight look like?" Draco gulped. The sound echoed loudly in the still room.

"I used an expelliarmus." He whispered, barely audible. The cracking laughter of the Dark Lord, accompanied first by Bellatrix's, then gradually by other Death Eaters', was frightening. Draco's face was covered in sweat by now. Fortunately, he managed to calm down a bit before the laughing stopped. Then the Dark Lord stood up again and kneeled in front of Draco. He put his wand under Draco's chin. The young man's breath caught in his throat with a yelp at the uncomfortable touch of very strong magic. Yet the wand only forced his head upwards with a continuous pressure. Draco's eyes met his Lord's.

"That particular ssspell reminds me of sssomeone." Dark Lord hissed dangerously and Draco realized his grave mistake. Was he out of his mind? Why in the world did he use a spell that was so typical for Potter of all people? Was he subconsciously suicidal or something? He barely started realizing his error when the first Crucio hit him violently. When he was released, he suddenly found himself lying face down to the floor in his own vomit, tears of pain smudged on his cheeks. Between the panicked gaps for air he managed nothing but a suffocated yelp. He heard the Dark Lord's footsteps echo in his ears and barely held in a whimper when his voice joined  them.

"It ssseems to me, Draco, that you are not fully aware of the honour I've blessssed you with." His master's ice-cold hand grasped his left arm and uncovered the skull and snake imprinted there. 

"Tell me, Draco, do you consssider me a fool?" Draco's heart rate elevated as he took in the meaning of the sentence. How again did he get in here? Before he could recall, another wave of pain left him gasping for air on the stone floor as the tip of his master's wand aimed at him for the second time.

"Forgimme, m'Lord, it won' happenagain." He forced his shaky mouth to form the words as soon as the pain came at halt. The only result though was another Crucio smattering his bones and tearing at his muscles. When the hex was finally cut off, he gulped the air thirstily, his hasty breaths echoing in the otherwise silent room as loudly as if he was shouting. The Dark Lord passed around him like an eagle around his prey, noticeably enjoying his pitiful state.

"Tell me, Draco, what makes you believe you should be granted forgivenesss?" Hissed his master threateningly. Draco was breathing hard, trying his best to recover as quickly as possible from the former curse. He didn't think twice before answering, his head bowed.

"Because I am dedicated to our case, my Lord." His master hummed darkly at the answer.

"What an interesssting answer." Hissed the snake man after a short consideration. "Very interesssting indeed, consssidering your current failure." Draco gulped. He hoped the Dark Lord didn't hear it.

"It makes me want to asssk you one more thing." Stated the Dark Lord, stopping his unnerving movement abruptly. Draco raised his gaze tentatively. He met his master's crimson pupils. 

"What exactly do you consssider our - 'cassse' - as you called it?" His voice leaked with venom. Draco, still lying on the floor covered in his own filth, knew something was off. He must have fucked up his answer. Could this question save him? He took a deep breath and said a silent prayer before answering.

"To kill Harry Potter, my Lord." It was immediately evident in the Dark Lord's face that he wasn't satisfied. It was even more apparent as he shouted from the top of his lungs.

"Everybody out!" 

_Oh. Oh shit._

From the corner of his eye, Draco desperately watched the other Death Eaters leave the room and wished for nothing else than to join them. He was sure, though, that he wasn't the one being dismissed.

As the Death Eaters one by one left in a haste, neither him nor the Dark Lord moved. Merlin, he was even afraid to breathe and blink! This was so, _so_ fucked up.

Not a minute later the hall was silent and empty, except for him and the Dark Lord. He had never been completely alone with this man. Until now. It was truly freaking him out. The crimson eyes looked down on him with dismay.

"You are nothing but a foolisssh boy, Draco Malfoy." The cool voice stated, as sharp eyes locked on his face. "You really are your father'sss son." The Dark Lord said mockingly. Draco clenched his teeth but kept his mouth shut. The tall stature of his Lord loomed over him like a giant beast from a  nightmare. The Dark Lord clicked his tongue a few times.

"You are ssso immature. You don't even know what you fight for. No wonder you failed." Announced his master distastefully. His brain, boosted in this horrid situation by the inflow of adrenalin, reached its maximum activity. How had the Dark Lord said it? What do I fight for? His pale face whitened even more as the realisation dawned on him. Oh god, he was so lost.

"I fight for the purity of wizarding blood, my Lord." How did he miss this fact before? The red gaze kept piercing him silently for a few seconds. Then came yet another hiss and the Dark Lord started circling around him again. Draco pierced the parquets with his gaze.

"That took you quite a long time to figure out, didn't it?" Mocked the Dark Lord cruelly. Draco tried hard to maintain his composure, his eyes still locked on the flooring.

"You mussst comprehend, Draco, that in a sssituation like thisss, it is hard for me to trussst your ssstatement of - " the Dark Lord made a mocking pause before continuing "loyalty." Draco was taken aback at the sudden realisation that the Dark Lord was rather enjoying this whole interrogation thing.

 "Tell me, Draco, how can I trussst your family, when it ssseems you don't even know what you fight for?" His voice  echoed in the hall like liquid coldness. Draco felt a pearl of sweat running down his cheek.

"I - I'd do anything -" Draco's voice creaked pathetically. A threatening hiss reached him from the direction where the Dark Lord was standing. The hiss  wasn't  stopping though, it was going on and on, direly echoed by the walls. And it was coming closer. Draco spotted a swirl of a cloak on his side, and then the Dark Lord  stood in front of him, looking down on him. And then the hiss finally stopped. 

Draco glanced up at his Lord's face. It seemed far too satisfied. More droplets of sweat formed just on the line of his hair. His disheveled  fringe must have been soaked in the salty liquid. He could feel it clinging to his face. 

It was the first time in his life he didn't care.

"Anything, you say." The Dark Lord seemed oddly happy; and even though Draco was sure this was a bait, he couldn't think of anything to say except a quiet "Yes".

 As the silent word escaped his mouth, the Dark Lord took a few steps and suddenly loomed over Draco. He snached his wand and in an instant it was pressed against Draco's chin. It was not a good feeling at all to have this crazy lunatic's wand just an inch away from his throat. Yet this time it didn't seem like an assault - the wand was pressing his chin up, raising his gaze up to meet his master's. Draco blinked nervously, confronted once again with the unnatural eye color of the monster in front of him. He surpassed a shiver.

"You are ssstill young and foolish." The wand held its place as the Dark Lord started painfully slowly diminishing, finally kneeling in front of Draco, his face merely an inch away from Draco's. The young man's breath hitched in his throat. "And I am about to give you a valuable lesssson, Draco."

Their eyes were locked on each other's, unblinking.

"This is for you to remember the true purpose of our... endeavour." Draco braced himself for the coming pain again. Nothing in the whole world could have prepared him for the next minutes though.

Because, oddly enough, no pain came right then. Only two words, voiced in an intense manner, disturbed the hush of the room and sent a drift of cold air to his too close face.

"Disssrobe, Draco."

The blonde froze. What? This was a joke, right? Did the crazy fuck want to humiliate him even more? Wasn't the coming torture enough for him anymore? What the fuck was going on?

As he gazed into the Dark Lord's crimson pupils, he could see the irritation of not seeing the results of his blatant request there. Draco had no other choice than to comply with the loonatic's odd command. 

As he was not sure his shaky legs could carry his weight, he was still kneeling when he started loosening his cloak. After a minute, the black fabric slid from his back to the floor. He caught a furtive glimpse of his master's facial expression. He was still waiting. Draco's shakz hands slid to the buttons on his shirt. He hunched back slightly to increase the space between him and his Master and his Lord's wand lowered. Even then he could feel the cool breath on his chest though and the unnatural redness of the other man's eyes piercing his sloping head.

Finally the shirt was off of him as well and he allowed himself to fully look up to the white noseless face. The Dark Lord, staring blatantly on his bare upper body, still didn't seem very satisfied though. The coming words confirmed Draco's worst assumption.

"I sssaid - _disssrobe_."

Draco gulped, feeling the red piercing gaze on his face once again, and hoped the sound wasn't loud enough to be heard by the man in front of him. This was... odd. Even for the Dark Lord. Why in the seven hells would he want him to take his trousers off? He decided to rather not think about it as he reached slowly to the buttons on his school robe trousers and reluctantly undid them as well as those on his shirt a minute before. Then he stood himself on his wobbly feet and let the cloth of his trousers hit the floor with a silent thump. He stepped out of them, using this as an opportunity to increase the space between him and his snake Lord a little bit more. 

He was now standing in front of him in nothing but his undergarment, his heart pounding heavily in his chest as if trying to tear its way out. The Lord sighed heavily, a dissatisfied look still clinging to his face. He stood up, considered Draco's stature for a second and then flicked his wand.

In that moment Draco found himself standing in the dark room with no one but the Lord and completely naked. His Lord's wand stole even the last remainders of his dignity. He desperately wanted to cover himself with something, anything, really. He knew it was useless though. The Dark Lord always got whatever he wanted. 

Draco's fear was reaching unknown dimensions. Even more so when his Master surpassed the short distance between them and suddenly,  Draco felt the Dark Lord's spidery fingers on the back of his skull, the long digits grabbing a handful of his platinum hair and tugging closer.

Nothing but another cold hitched breath warned him before his mouth was assaulted mercilessly. The Dark Lord's tongue choked him and his sharp teeth were bruising him everywhere they could reach. Soon he could taste blood in his mouth along with the vomit. Draco's throat spasmed, forming a loud hiccup that sounded like a sob. He didn't know which was it, really. He didn't care. He just wanted this to stop.

The Dark Lord had obviously other plans, though. The fingers of one hand untangled from the blond hair and descended over his neck, shoulder blade and back right to his arse and squeezed. Draco trembled in complete horror. He couldn't breathe, he was utterly  frightened and desperate and there was no one to save him this time. Tear after tear smudged his cheeks, descending over his neck to his heaving chest. The Dark Lord pressed against him, still covered in his robes thankfully. A crooked hissy moan left his jagged lips as he broke their horror of a kiss.

Draco gasped for breath loudly, sobbing, as the streams of cold air flooded his constrained throat. The Dark Lord bit his neck and his hand squeezed Draco's arse cheek again. By then Draco was sobbing openly, his whole body caught in tremors of fear and horror.

The Dark Lord pressed against him, his whole body forcing Draco to step backwards. In order not to fall, his hands shot up by their own volition to grab a hold of something. That something, regrettably, were his Lord's shoulders. His master chuckled cruelly. Draco gasped for breath as he realised this unconscious action had actually closed the proximity between them even more, combined with the dark Lord's steady movement towards him. He was now practically hanging onto the snake man, his bare chest pressed onto the other man's. As the blonde's legs were stumbling backwards, his Lord didn't let go of him even for the briefest moment and kept on pushing Draco until his back met a cold stone wall. Breath hitched in Draco's throat as the realisation dawned on him. He was trapped; his life in the hands of this freak.

The Dark Lord purred, obviously satisfied with the outcome of his actions. Draco's hands were still clutching the man's shoulders, frozen with fear and unable to let go.

Then the other hand, still entangled in the blondness of Draco's hair, left its place and descended over Draco's neck to rest on his chest. Draco hissed as a stream of pain ran through him. There were newly healed scars on his chest, cut in there by Potter's fucking curse. And the dark Lord seemed to enjoy them quite a bit. He ran his fingers over them, pressing, scratching, pinching; forcing more painful sounds to escape Draco's throat. Draco tried his best to hold his tears in, as unbearable as the pain was. Then his master's voice spoke again.

"Take off my cloak, Draco." Upon hearing the demand, Draco's hands started shaking uncontrollably and his chin fell to his collar bones. He had no other choice, had he?

His  fingers reached blindly to the strings holding his Lord's mantle in its place and untangled them. The heavy black cloth hit the floor loudly. Underneath it there was a black cloak, held by dozens of little buttons. The Dark Lord waited silently as Draco tried his best to overcome a sudden rush of nausea. Then his shaking hands started to work their way down the buttons.

For this whole time, the Dark Lords hands were wandering across Draco's body – pinching here, scratching there. Draco's eyes were starting blindly at the white chest revealing itself under his fingers, trying to ignore the painful sensations Dark Lord's hands provoked. He was gulping frantically to prevent vomit escaping his mouth. As the cloak fell unwieldly to the floor, Draco came upon the horrid realisation there was nothing beneath it.

His heart raced, terrified, as the Dark Lord's naked body pressed onto his and his cool breath tickled Draco's neck. The blonde's chest was heaving with shallow breaths as the Dark Lord's voice whispered words of threat into his ear.

"Now, Draco, I'm going to teach you about the importance of pureness of wizarding blood. _The hard way_."

By the end of the last sentence the Dark Lord's voice became raspy. And then the hand on Draco's arse started descending slowly over his thigh just to the curve of his knee, where it nested for a second. Draco's eyes filled with desperate tears and he could do nothing to stop them. Then the hand moved again. Gripping the knee painfully, nails breaking the skin, pushing Draco's leg up, making him stand on one foot only, curling the captured limb around the Dark Lord's waist. Draco's hands took hold of the Dark Lord's neck, this time, to maintain balance. Then the  hand reached for the other leg and it followed the first in the same movement. Draco wailed, his naked vulnerable body pressed to his Lord's, now feeling the man's sick arousal, knowing already what's coming next.

 Both of the Dark Lord's hands grabbed on each side of his arse and he felt the monster's cock slide around his privates. He whined, pressing his head to the curve of his shoulder. He couldn't watch this happening to him. Feeling was horrible enough.

The Dark Lord's cock stopped teasing his bottom abruptly, changing the sidelong move to one sudden strong push upwards. As the hard flash tore its way deeper and deeper through Draco's insides, he cried and sobbed uncontrollably, all of his restraint gone for good as the snake man started pounding him mercilessly, hissing his own crooked pleasure to Draco's ear, while biting his neck until it coloured crimson with droplets of blood.

His back was steadily being shoved against the wall, stones digging painfully into his spine. He could feel little wounds opening there, moistening his back bloody. Still, it was nothing compared to the inferno consuming his inner parts, as the Dark Lord's prick abused his rear again and again. 

In and out. In and out. In and out.

He wept and sobbed and moaned until his voice became rough and mouth dried up. But even then tears were streaming through his tightly closed eyelids, trickling all over his face, as the steady impacts to his backside sent them flying.

His mind was completely blank by then. There was only unimaginable pain and mortification. Everything else, every thought, every other sensation, was taken away from him by the inhumane torture.

He completely lost his perception of time. According to him, it could have taken a whole century until the Dark Lord spasmed and his movement became slightly frantic. He remembered this weird moment even now. It was the moment the torture came to its end. Event though Draco was sure of what must have happened, he was glad. Glad it was over. The Dark Lord's now limp cock was removed from his sore bottom in the same instant a muted sob left his lips. 

He looked up, eyes foggy, seeing an unclear image of two huge red pupils through his tears. Sudden stillness filled the room. No one moved. Not even a breath could be heard. The two men were just looking in the other's eyes. One seeing a mere slave, the other his newly enhanced nightmare.

Then the wicked moment broke, as the Dark Lord loosened his grip on Draco's stature, letting him fall heavily onto the hard floor with his full weight. Draco yelped loudly, new tears filling his eyes, as his bottom received yet another shot of agonizing pain. He curled up on the floor, sobbing. He couldn't hear the Dark Lord's spell then. He only felt a light touch of magic at the back of his lower spine. He didn't pay much attention to it, as there was so much pain to even out. What he did pay attention to though, were the loud words that came next.

"Hopefully, this will make you remember the importanccce of purity of wizarding blood, my dear Draco." Uttered the Dark Lord in a seemingly loving voice, kneeling behind Draco's back, briefly touching the side of his stomach. The cold sensation made Draco flinch uncomfortably. Another sob formed in his convulsed throat. He kept weeping even after the Dark Lord's footsteps subsided behind the heavy door and he was left alone in the cold miserable room, not caring at all about anything, wishing for all to be over; wishing for nothing but the pain to go away.


	2. The aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is putting up with his punishment every way he can.

Draco’s eyelids were heavy, even though he could feel the warm touch of sunlight on his eyelashes. He was sure it was late morning already, he had no desire to get up though. He was just lying in his bed, safely locked in his room in Malfoy manor, hidden under a considerable pile of sheets and blankets. After such a warm night spent in this kind of bedding, he was covered in a thick layer of sweat. He could feel its beads tickling on his skin, as they were making their way to meet the first scrap of fabric dry enough to suck them in. As their soft tickling didn’t cease and everyhing he felt around himself was soaking wet, one could assume it was a rather intricate task.

He could make out times he would describe this as unbearable - the tickling was quite awful to put up with and the warmness under the sheets was immense - but for now, it was the best he could have, really.

He kept on lying; eyes shut, body unmoving, mind blank.

It was _better_ this way.

 He could spend days crawled up in his bed on the brink of slumber, watching with his eyes closed how the day defeats the night, slowly goes by, and in the end ceaces to the darkness again in an infinite fight. He was fine like this. Happy even.

It was good two weeks since that day… that night. He didn’t want to think about it. His mother was there for him the whole time after. The few times he’d actually gotten up, eaten some food, and seen something else apart from the inner side of his eyelids, were all thanks to her.

Every morning she came to his room, beeing the only one allowed in through the complex locking spells. She opened the curtains, brought some breakfest and for a few quiet hours sat by his bed. He could imagine her eyes, pitifuly taking him in. She spread the curtains every day; but some days she didn’t sit. Instead she tilted over him, touched his soaked hair and whispered. Some days she even urged him out of bed, made him eat a few bites of this or that or even take a shower.

Today she was just sitting.

He knew she was there with his first conscious thought after waking up this morning. She was so quiet he could’t even make out her breathing, yet her pressence was somehow unmistakably clear.

As he started drifting away again, he was suddenly torn out by a silent creak of the sofa on the side of his bed. Then the bright sunshine entering the wide room through the windows dimmed, as his mother’s figure stood up and heeled over his bed. Her cold fingers touched his forhead gently. He could feel all the sweat sticking to them. He didn’t care a tad.

“Draco” Her voice was quiet but steady. “You have to get up.” He didn’t move. She sighed.

“You can’t go on like this forever, Draco. It’s scaring me. _You’re scaring me_.” No reaction.

She gently tugged on this blanket. He felt a stream of blissfully cold air on his now bare neck, accompanied by a light touch of a well-known hand.

The blankets were slowly sliding off of his body. After a few seconds he surrendered to the astonishing feeling of fresh air on his soaked flesh and opened his eyes. In that same moment he met his mother’s troubeled gaze. There were wrinkles between her eyebrows, but those ceased immediately, surpressed by a tender smile as she finally saw her son’s eyes.

“Here you are, Dragon.” She whispered gently. Corners of Draco’s mouth flinched upwards at the mention of his childhood nickname. He let his mother undo the blankets. Then he stood up, all wobbly.

His knees were barely holding him up. He was very weak. And as he looked down on his sticky clothes, a sharp smell reached his nostrils. His stomach twitched and soon after a sour fluid was going up his throat. He covered his mouth with both hands and hastened to his bathroom. A few seconds later he was retching all fluidy contens of his stomach to the loo. His mother was at his side, kneeling on the cold floor, carressing his hair out of his face.

When the sickening deal was over, he rested his forhead exhaustedly on the toilet seat. He shouldn’t have gotten up so quickly.

“Draco?” His mother urged him.

“I’m okay.” He answered dismissively. I’ll be taking a bath, so if you don’t mind…

His mother got the message and stood up.

“I’ll be waiting in your room with a breakfast.” She stated at last and closed the door behind herself.

Draco spent a few more seconds on the floor; enjoying the wonderful coldness on his forhead. Then he made himself stand up, flushed the sickening substance and limped to the shower.

Undressing took him a tremendous amount of time. Since that night, he didn’t like the feeling of _exposedness_ it brought. The wet clothes, sticking to his skin as if they were glued to it, weren’t helping much. He fought the clothes, among with vigorous tremors possesing his body every few seconds. When he made it, he hastily turned on the water and hid himself under its stream as if it had the power to make his nakedness invisible.

Even though it had no such power, the cold stream of water was still relaxing. It was carrying away all the sick smell surrounding him as well as his black thoughts. He was free. At least for this moment.

He enjoyed the droplets of water streaming down his bony stature, taking away all the sick. He enjoyed the fresh smell of his shower potion, sinking into his pores. The scent of his shampoo, taking away the sweaty coat off his hair, making them shine again with aristocratic blond.

He spent a considerable time in the shower before stopping the water and hastilly wrapping himself up in a fresh towel. He thoroughly dried his skin and dressed into some clothes one of their house elves left there for him. It was a pair of grey trousers and a simple light blue T-shirt.

In his room his mother was awaiting him with the promised breakfeast. Without a word he sat down and started eating. He didn’t want to end up slouching over the loo again anytime soon. This morning’s events reasured him a breakfeast was essential to pursue this goal. But in the end he couldn’t make himself eat more than a few bites. He thought about when was the last time he’d eatin before this. He couldn’t make out if it was the day before yeasterday or the day before that.

As he was staring blindly into his meal, his mother’s voice filled the silence.

“Tell me about what happened.”

Even though the question was hovering above them since that awful morning she found him frozen, bloody, half-conscious and naked on the floor of the night’s meeting’s hall, it was the fist time it was actually spoken.

Draco knew he would dread this moment even before it came. What was he supposed to say? He didn’t want his mother to know, even though he doubted she hasn’t figured it out already. The circumstances she found him in were quite straightforward after all.

“I’m not talking about it.” His voice was void of all emotion. His mother’s only reply was a simple nod.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, sweetheart.” She conceded. “I just want you to know that I am here for you, whatever happens, whenever you’re in need.” His lips narrowed into a thin line. His mother sighed and gently touched his chin.

“Just, please, leave your room once in a while?” What clearly should have been a request turned out as a question.

“I’m not ready yet, mother.”

Silence.

A nod.

“I understand.”

More silence.

He lowered his sight back to his breakfast. He felt restless; the quiet of the room combined with his mother’s investigating look was crashing him. Slowly, he started tucking in again, just to make himself focused on something else. One bite after another dissolved in his mouth.

The more he ate, the dimmer was the effect the silence had on him, until it wholly disppeared. And the more he ate the better he felt. He was more startled by that revelation than he reasonably should have been.

His mother’s mood grew brighter and brigter with each mouthful. She must have been worrying a lot about him. She had dark circles under her eyes and more wrinkles on the forehead than he remembered her to have.

Suddenly, he felt angry at himself for putting her through all this. For being so selfish for this whole year. For cracking up now. He was a failure - not only as a deatheater, but even as a _son_.

At that moment he knew he finally must be the one who is strong. And if he could not do it for himself, he must manage for his mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know your feelings so far about this fic in the comments!!


	3. For Sure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait people. I was too lazy to post this. The university takes the better of me, I guess...  
> I hope you won't shun me for the delay. I want to finish this fic and will act accordingly from now on. Pinky promise!  
> By the way, your comments motivate me a ton. Please do not hesitate to post them ;)  
> Thank you :)

When he woke up this morning, it was still pitch dark outside. The sudden interruption of his slumber was no surprise to him. He's gotten used to it in the past week.  
As well as the sickness, that was already rising up his throat.  
His face twisted into a grimace as he tossed his blanket aside and hurried to his bathroom, sickly taste filling his mouth already. He fought his instincts as he pressed his lips tightly together, pressing his hand over his mouth to ensure nothing was escaping onto his night robes and velvet carpet this time.  
But his whole upper body was caught in a spasm and his legs weren't quick enough. The pressure on his lips was suddenly too much and small gaps formed between them. Vomit started to pour out, covering his chin and palm and dripping through his fingers on the floor.  
He was nearly there. He hurriedly reached for the door handle with his clean hand and the mechanism clicked loudly as the door finally opened. He managed a few more paces before finally collapsing on the floor, both hands clenching the toilet seat and his stomach retching violently. He hated this new morning routine.  
When the stream of sick finally started to cease, he felt tears fighting their way through his eyelids. His nose was full of the sickly odour of the former contents of his stomach and his face was sticky from droplets of sweat. He breathed out and clenched his eyelids forcefully. He felt like shit.  
He wished to rest for a minute, but as the horrible smell filled his nostrils, he felt his stomach starting to turn once again and hurried to stand up and flush the toilet, before he had to go through the retching part again.  
As soon as he gained balance, he heard a familiar pop behind his back. He didn't bother to turn around and washed his face instead.  
"Is master Draco alright?" Squeeked a high pitched voice of one of their houseelves. Draco rinsed out his mouth, ignoring the question.  
"Clean that." Hissed he finally, when he stopped the water, gesturing towards the stains stains on his floor. Ebby, the houseelf, turned around quickly and started her task without another question.  
Gainig his privacy again, Draco stared at his reflection in the mirror. His face was pale in the cold morning light. There were huge dark circles under his weary eyes. The droplets of water were sticking to a bristle, which formed on his unshaved face recently.  
He turned away from the the mirror disgustedly and walked back to his room. Ebby was kneeling on the floor, scrubbing the dirty substance off of the carpet. He passed her and hid under the blankets once again. He closed his eyes but couldn't fall asleep anymore.  
"Master Draco," Ebby's voice sounded tentative, breaking the silence after a few minutes.  
"Mmm." He grumbled groggily from under the sheets.  
"Can Ebby do anything else for you?" The houseelf sounded worried. One of Draco’s eyes peered out from under the blanket to check the appearance of the room. It looked ok.  
"No, that’s all." He contemplated in a low voice and hid his face again. "And now let me sleep." He thought the elf was well gone, when he heard the squeekish voice again.  
"Ebby is worried, master." Said the little creature.  
"Go." Draco dismissed her impatiently, not opening his eyes a crack. After few more seconds a pop sound finally resonated through the dimly lit room. Draco was alone again.  
"Thank you." He murmured to noone in particular, while releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding.  
\- - -  
Even though he couldn’t fall asleep again, Draco spent good few hours hidden away in his bed. The sun was already well up the horizon when he uncovered his blankets again and stepped into the sunlight. He changed into his robes, carefully avoiding any mirrors. When he was done, he called for his houseelf.  
But instead of the little being materializing in front of him, the door to his room opened. Unlike the pop sound, this made Draco freak out. He turned abruptly to face both the door and the new incomer.  
Gladly, he found out that the person entering his rooms was his mother, carrying a tray with food. He relaxed and walked towards her. Sometimes he felt like a paranoiac.  
"Draco," Narcissa greeted her son lovingly with a nod and a light smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes.  
"Mother." Draco nodded back, not having the courtesy to force a smile on his face. "What is bringing you to my rooms?"  
" I am bringing you a late breakfast." Answered Narcissa. At the same moment Draco noticed a tray in her hands.  
"Let's eat." Her voice didn’t allow any objections, as she put the tray on a table near the window. Draco knew resisting wasn't an option, so he sat down obligingly on a chair that faced his mother.  
The food looked splendid. There was a steaming kettle full of black tea, which smelled better than any he'd ever drank before. He overlooked the other specialties - there was a platter with butter and various kinds of ham and cheese, a basket with pastries, a bowl full of mashed eggs under a heating charm, and another platter with freshly cut vegetables.  
He reached for a plate and filled it with the deliciously looking food, as his mother did the same. Then he poured himself cup of tea, enjoying the exquisite aroma once again. He couldn't resist and had to relish in a sip. The taste was equally brilliant.  
"Draco." The intonation of his name was different from usual. He looked up from his teacup, brows furrowed.  
"I'm worried." His mother whispered in thin voice, stirring tea in her cup mindlessly.  
"What's happened?" Draco asked cautiously, throat constricted. Please, let it not be some news from the Dark Lord! His mother sighed, her eyes more exhausted than ever.  
"I had a word with Ebby." She confessed. Draco's worries were immediately replaced by anger. "She told me you are sick." Her questioning eyes met his expectantly.  
"And?" The word was more of a grunt as he gritted his teeth.  
"I'm worried." His mother repeated. "Let me take a look at you." She beseeched, reaching for her wand. Draco pushed his chair backwards and stood up hurriedly, backing away.  
"No." He stated with a complete lack of emotion. Why did the sodding elf have to babble? "It's none of your concern." His mother tilted her head and sighed.  
"I know, my dear, but I can't help myself." She admitted. "When her son is in pain, his mother suffers with him." She looked up and met his gaze. "Can you please let me do the spells? It will ease your mother's aching heart." Draco sighed and sat down to dig into the contents of his plate.  
"It's nothing, mother, really." He stood his ground. "You needn't worry." The last thing he wanted to discuss with his mother over breakfast was his lasting sickness.  
"Then let me use the spell. Please." She insisted and gave him a pleading look. "If it's really nothing, I'll let it be after." She promised. Draco scowled. He had to admit that was a fair offer. And it wasn’t like his mother would let it be if he didn’t comply anyway.  
"Alright," he sighed defeatedly, "do what you must."  
Narcissa immediately stood up and passed around the table, halting next to her son. She was probably afraid her son would rethink his permission. Draco shifted on his chair to face her. She pointed her wand at him and started murmuring spell after spell, swishing the wooden stick elegantly. Every charm she cast on him as if had the side effect of moving her eyebrows closer to each other, slowly but unquestioningly forming a deep frown. Draco was getting more and more upset.  
"What is it, mother?" His voice was audibly annoyed.  
"One moment, dear." She urged, distraught. Draco frowned and watched his mother's actions carefully.  
When she casted the last spell, her frown didn't loosen even a bit.  
"See, it's alright, nothing to worry about." He babbled distractedly, and quickly turned back to the table and dug in to his suddenly cold food. His mother's expression scared him.  
"Draco," she addressed him tenderly, kneeling to his side, resting her delicate hands on his knees. "What did he do to you?"  
Draco froze at the feared question. He wouldn't speak about it, he promised himself, not ever.  
"I'm not telling anyone." His expression was ice cold. His mother seized his hand and gripped it tightly.  
"Did he -" her voice broke and her eyes filled with tears. "He raped you, didn't he." The statement was merely a whisper. Bitter tears were drawing wet creases on her cheeks. Draco pressed his eyelids tightly together, extricating his hand from his mother's palms, covering his face with it. He didn't answer.  
His mother wailed, reaching for his head, pressing it under her chin soothingly, caressing his hair, holding on more tightly than ever. He had never seen her like this before. Draco's tears started soaking her blouse as he finally let them go after a month of denial.  
His mother was muttering something. He heard the unintelligible words resonating in her chest and felt her jaw shivering. He hugged her back tightly.  
"This should be _our home_." Her shivering was ceasing so Draco was able to make out the words.  
"Mother, I can cope..." He whispered. "I'll forget." He got an idea and glanced up to meet her gaze. "You can make me." He suggested longingly.  
Narcissa shook her head, another stream of tears fighting their way out of her eyes forcefully. Her hand traveled down his chest, nesting on his belly.  
"You will never forget, he made sure of that." His mother's words were dark. He glanced up again. Her gaze was absent, her hand rubbing his belly.  
"Mother?" He whispered, voice cracking. She closed her eyes.  
"I know the reason of your sickness." She stated. The words were so silent he barely understood them.  
"What does it have to do with this?" He croaked.  
"Everything." She sighed, more tears creasing her face. Draco freaked out. What did that mean? Did something else happen that horrible night? Suddenly, he remembered something. His heart began to pound. He gathered his courage and spoke, whispering.  
"He cursed me, mother. He cursed me then. Does it..." His speech was interrupted by his mother's sudden movement.  
"So it's final, then."  
"What do you mean?"  
"You're pregnant Draco."


	4. The Reunion

His Dark Mark hurt and Draco was terrified. It happened for the first time since Dumbledore's death. And he wasn't ready.

He was in his rooms with his mother at his side when the stinging pain gripped his forearm. She didn't notice his sudden flinch or how the color seeped out of his face at the same moment. He quickly turned away and made a steady pace to a bookcase on the other side of his room. She only momentarily glanced up from her book as he passed her. As he reached the stacked shelves, his mind drifted away, heart pounding rapidly. He knew this was coming, but he resented the notion so much he couldn't make himself plan on it even one bit. That is why now, leaning on the wooden bookshelf for support, he had no scheme in his mind. And worse, he didn't know why he was being called up.

His inactivity and lack of presence at the weekly meetings was so overlooked, that it nearly made him forget his lasting insecurity. Above that, it caused he had absolutely no idea what were the Death Eaters up to these days which made him completely blank on any reason he could be needed for right now. _If there even was one._ He thought with an icy shiver. For all he knew the Dark Lord could be summoning him only to ridicule him for his condition or to torture him some more. As soon as these thoughts crossed his mind, he hastily cast them away. Those options were far too possible, and far too horrendous, for him to take them into account now

He knew he had to act quickly, for the Dark Lord didn't permit delay. But what should he do? He allowed himself a quick glance to the sitting silhouette of his mother. She sat in her chair, reading, completely oblivious to her son. Should he tell her? Tear her out from the safe house she built for them? He considered the option for a minute, but he dismissed it after. He couldn't do this to her.

He had to go, there was no other way. He had to let go of the support of bookcase, give an assuring nod to his mother to fool her into thinking everything was ok, and surpass the distance to the door. He could do it. He had to. Pain washed over his arm forcefully. Now.

He let go of the wood and forced his body to turn to the door. He put one foot in front of the other, step by step. When he was slipping by his mother, he forced the nod and a stiff smile. His mother's brows furrowed, but she nodded back and came back to her book, probably assuming it was one of his weird moods again.

When he closed the door behind himself, he let out a big breath. Now he had to move on to the serious business. He looked around the long corridor. It was empty, fortunately. He gathered his nearly lost courage and began his pace towards the big staircase, and then eventually to the big hall, where all Death Eater meetings took place. His only guides were the silent paintings of his ancestor. He felt their stares on himself as he passed around them, but none of them said a word to him. He didn’t allow himself to look back - he was sure if he did he couldn’t go on.

He had walked down the stairs and sooner than he wanted the giant oak door to the Great room was towering over him. By that time his Dark Mark was on fire. He was fighting off the shivers when his hand touched the cold metal door handle. He managed to push it anyway and the room finally outspread in front of him. There were two huge crowds of Death Eaters spread on both sides of the room in small clusters. Between the crowds there was an aisle. And on the end of it was standing his Lord himself.

As he looked at him, the tormenting pain in his arm disappeared at once. Nevertheless, as he took the pale monstrous face of the Dark Lord in, he was less calm than a minute ago.

“My Lord.” He managed, with a little bow. His voice was steady, but he didn’t expect it to stay this composed for much longer. The pictures from the night, pictures, he was trying to forget, were now flooding his mind like a horde of dementors. He felt his chin starting to tremble and he bit his cheek until he tasted blood on his tongue.

“My dear Draco,” His Lord welcomed him sleekly. “It is great to see you again after your long absence. Come closer.”

Draco started to walk towards his master. His head was spinning so badly he was afraid he could faint. He watched his master’s face for the whole time, though. With every Draco’s step the Dark Lord’s sharp teethed smile grew wider and wider, until he was sneering right into Draco’s face.

“May I ask about the details of your absence, my dear young friend?” The Snake asked with his head tilted to side, feigning interest.

“I wasn’t feeling well, my Lord.” He answered with his head bowed.

“Oh, I hope you determined the cause of your illness by now, didn’t you?” His voice was soft as silk, but Draco was not fooled. Behind the refined words he heard the actual question.

“Yes, I did.” Draco tried not to think about how many people in the room might know about his condition. All the faces seemed completely blank though, so he repelled the thought and looked back at his master.

“Well, I hope it won’t interfere with your duties anymore.” His Lord flashed his sharp teeth at him once more and then beckoned the crowd around.

“We have some nice news to share with young Master Malfoy, don’t we?” The crowd murmured. The sound made a shiver run down Draco’s spine.

“My Lord?” He asked in a weak voice. His Master’s eyes pinned to him again.

“Well, you managed to fulfill your last task… tolerably.” The Dark Lord mocked him. “And I didn’t give you any reward, did I?” The grin on the slimy bastard’s face was saying it all. He was very well aware Draco was carrying a certain reward inside his belly. As if on command, Draco’s stomach turned sickeningly.

“Well, I have a nice reward for you right here.” The Lord went on with his speech as if this was a cheerful event. Maybe, for him, it was. Draco was dreading this more and more with every passing moment, though.

“What do you say, my dear, do you want your well deserved reward?” He was sick and sweating and dizzy. The mock in the Dark Lord’s face was eminent. Today didn’t have a happy ending, Draco was sure. Right now, the Dark Lord made him plead for more torture. Yet, Draco didn’t have a choice but comply.

“Yes, my Lord, it would be my honor, to -” His shaking voice was muted by the Dark Lord’s loud exclamation.

“Lucius!”

Draco’s blood froze in his veins when he saw the very familiar, yet totally foreign figure emerge from the dark-clothed crowd. It was more than a year since he last saw his father. The person in front of him was nothing but a mere shade of the man he admired. He was slouched and limping. His skin was so pale it appeared almost grayish. His hair lost all of its color and texture and was limply falling to his father’s shoulders. It looked like alien translucent strands of despair framing his face, which was lacking even the slightest hint of person hiding behind it. But this was all nothing compared to what happened to Lucius’s eyes. They were so void they could’ve gone unnoticed if it weren’t for the huge dark circles under them. Was this what a year of Azkaban did to a person?

“Aren’t you happy with your reward, my dear?” The sharp voice tore Draco out of his thought trail. He felt the red pupils on himself and quickly responded.

“I am very happy, my Lord. Thank you.” The Dark Lord stepped closer to the two and tilted to them.

“I hope you will remember this lesson, my dear friends.” He lowered his voice so that only Draco and his father could hear. “It is the last one I will ever give you. Do not disappoint me again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next one comming soon ;)  
> Looking forward for your comments!


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